These Things I Need to Say
by drazzah
Summary: Harry finally confronts Snape about what the people of power in his life really want from him and how he feels about it.


Hey guys, this is a one-shot that came to mind while I was toying with a new fic. Not sure if it'll ever come out, but this was written so I figured I'd post it!

-Drazzah

* * *

Snape manhandled Harry inside of his office, letting the door shut firmly behind them. Harry swallowed nervously before straightening his shoulders. He wasn't in the wrong here, after all.

So what if he'd ignored Snape's orders not to interfere? He couldn't just stand around while someone could get hurt. Defense was what he was _good_ at, for Merlin's sake.

He watched as the older wizard's imposing black figure paced in front of him, black eyes regarding him with flat derision. Harry could feel his pulse quicken and his breath shorten in anger at that look, even before the teacher spoke.

"Your refusal to listen to any of the authority figures in your life continues to work to your detriment, Mr, Potter." Snape sneered.

And suddenly, Harry couldn't take it any longer. Incredulity and sadness warred in the heavy pit of his stomach at those words.

" _Listen to authority figures?_ " He said angrily. _"C_ an you honestly name someone with power in my life that only wants me to be happy and healthy when they spout their nonsense about knowing what's best for me?"

Snape scoffed, striding behind his desk, black robes flowing. He elegantly took a seat and raised one disbelieving brow at Harry, who continued to stand by the door. "I will ignore your tone on the basis that you are overcome with teenage angst, Potter. Your words certainly show this to be so. Youth rarely can see what is truly best for them, and you are just like all of the other little troublemakers who believe they are infallible." He spoke decisively, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture.

How Harry had thought Snape would maybe understand, especially after what they had seen of each other's pasts, was beyond him at this point. He was the same snarky git who couldn't get over what Harry's father had done before he'd even been born.

His fists trembled, clenched tight to hide their shaking. He tried to control the wobble in his voice, but he knew it came through anyways, if Snape's frown was any indication. "I don't hear you naming any authority figure who just wants me to be happy in my own right. Sir." He said quietly.

The black-haired wizard sighed, as if put-out by a stupid question. But Harry was determined to really see how the adults viewed how he was treated from their point of view. Because Harry often found the attention lacking. Not that he expected to be treated really well, or like he was special. Because he wasn't. _They_ were the ones that kept saying that, then leaving him on his own to fumble through life.

"Well," Snape enunciated, as if Harry was a dunderhead. "There is your Headmaster, and your Head of House. Every teacher is only looking out for their students, Potter, even if those efforts remain unrecognized."

Harry laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, well, Dumbledore leaves me at the Dursley's all summer, despite knowing I hate it there and what type of people they are. He doesn't care as long as I'm _safe._ Not to mention the fact that he never tells you anything unless he absolutely has to, and only works for the greater good, leaving everyone else as nothing more than a chess piece on his board." He said tightly, throat working through the lump that was growing there. "Maybe he does care for me, but there are things he cares about a lot bloody more. I've seen first hand what the consequences of being uninformed are." He swallowed the lump suddenly blocking his throat. _Don't think about that,_ he told himself fiercely.

Snape lifted one black brow, but didn't disagree, so Harry continued. He honestly didn't believe he could stop at this point.

"And McGonagall goes along with whatever the Headmaster says. The only advice she gave me last year was to keep my head down around Umbridge. She did say she would help me become an Auror, but that was only because Umbridge was there saying it would never happen. And speaking of Umbridge, I doubt a teacher who treats her students like she did was looking out for any of _us_."

He rolled his eyes at Snape's non-plussed look, absentmindedly rubbing his fingers gently over the too-familiar handwriting that was scarred into the back of his hand. When he noticed deep black eyes following his unconscious movements, he hastily shoved his hands in his pockets.

More secrets to keep. Not that this one really mattered at this point, but he really did not want to get into it tonight.

Those black eyes were narrowing in on his face, their expression unreadable. "And I, Mr. Potter?"

Harry gulped, but steeled himself to reply properly. They were being uncommonly candid tonight and he was reluctant to stop this flow of babbling. It was making him feel sort of.. cleansed. Even if Snape told him he was an idiot afterward and kicked him out, at least he'd finally been able to _say_ _something_.

"I think the Occlumency lessons are proof enough, sir. That and the fact that you've hated me before you even met me, because of a man I've never met who did things that I would never have been okay with in the first place." He lowered his eyes to stare at his fidgeting feet.

There was a long awkward silence, before his professor's low voice slid silkily across the office. "Sit down, Potter."

Harry slowly raised his gaze to eye the older man warily. When he didn't receive anything but a flat look in return, he slowly moved forward to perch on the edge of the uncomfortable chair situated in front of the imposing desk. He waited, wondering if he'd gone too far, and simultaneously not really caring if he had.

"I can, perhaps, see your point of view and how you may have arrived at your conclusions." He resolutely ignored Harry's wide eyes. "But to say that no one wants you to be happy or healthy is only giving in to your own dark thoughts and giving life to your misconceptions. The adults around you do not, for the most part, wish you any harm, Potter. Quite the opposite, in fact." His elbows were propped on the desktop, fingers steepled in front of his thin-lipped mouth. Eyes gazed distantly over Harry's head, as if he couldn't make himself meet his eyes as he spoke. Harry was having trouble with that himself.

"People with power who _do_ like me can't help but think about what my role is, because of the prophecy. It's better that I'm safe and secure, because if I died there wouldn't be any hope. Maybe I'm not treated the best at home, or maybe they can see I'm struggling and unhappy, but I'm alive to do what I have to." The weight in his chest was like a boulder rolling down a mountain. It was forcing these words out of him, purging him of things he normally didn't dare to voice. "I doubt that any one of those adults you mentioned - including you, sir - have seen me in danger or close to dying and haven't immediately thought about what would happen to the world if I died."

Silence met his words. Now he did raise his eyes cautiously, meeting the slightly perturbed pair across the desk before he finished. There was now an overwhelming urge to get out of here, to get some fresh air. The words came tumbling out, pushed on by his desperation to be heard.

"I know it's just the way things are, that in the scheme of things I'm not all that important. I was born and Voldemort chose me to fulfill the prophecy. It's what my life has built up to, and I'll either kill him, or I'll fail and be killed by him. But I'm nothing more than a sacrifice or a means to an end in a lot of wizard's and witches' eyes. I've known it for a long time, when I realized that there never seemed to be help with Voldemort when I needed it. But it only really made sense after Dumbledore finally told me the truth about everything after.." The words got stuck in his throat. After _Sirius._ "After the Department of Mysteries. So please, sir, don't tell me that everyone wants me to be happy, and healthy, and whole. That they're only doing what's best for _me._ I know everyone does the best they can for kids and students, if they're decent people, but I'll never have that luxury. Because of a few cryptic words, I have no real choices, and I'll never be as important as the greater good."

They stared at one another for one impossibly long moment, before he stood and walked out the door without looking back.


End file.
